


Nightmare Vendor

by Peckishdragon



Category: Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Bucky Barnes & Shuri Friendship, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 03:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peckishdragon/pseuds/Peckishdragon
Summary: When Bucky was a kid, he had never pictured himself as a nightmare vendor. Buying, selling and trading in the ephemeral. He had thought maybe an all powerful witch, or some kick ass spark living in some plush mansion. Instead he carted his trolly home to Brooklyn every night, to a tiny hole in the wall, next door to a demonically possessed microwave.





	Nightmare Vendor

Bucky didn't bother hawking about his goods on his tiny corner of New York City. Pedestrians, both magical and mundane, knew what goods he dealt in, by the black awning with blue zig zags that was adorning his cart. When he was a kid, he had never pictured himself as a nightmare vendor. Buying, selling and trading in the ephemeral. He had thought maybe an all powerful witch, or some kick ass spark living in some plush mansion. Instead he carted his trolly home to Brooklyn every night, to a tiny hole in the wall, next door to a demonically possessed microwave. 

He hated that damn microwave, it was always fucking beeping in the middle of the night. Bucky tried not to victim blame, cause that shit was not cool, but damn it. He would take a piece of aluminum foil to that thing given half a chance. After a hard day of peddling in housewife vanilla porn dreams; not to mention the sweaty, zit cream stink that rolled off the nightmares of pimply teens, Bucky just wanted some peace and damn quiet. Maybe some snuggles with his hell-spawn cat, and a cold brew. 

The American Fucking Dream, and all that crap. 

Bucky had just finished his trudge across the bridge, his cart bumping ahead of him. His thoughts were already circulating around his cluttered yet not terribly cozy apartment, cooking something with some sorta noodle and vague thoughts on watching some baseball. Watching the zombies shuffle around the bases while the vamps partook in a blood frenzy might be entertaining. Though, if you've seen one umpire mauled for a bad call, you've seen them all in Bucky's blasé opinion. 

He was closing his cart up in his tiny storage unit when Bucky became aware of the loud din of shouting and screaming happening outside his building. Brooklyn on a good day was noisy. It was all apart of living atop of each other. One became immune to the shouts, the sirens and the banshee wailing. This was different. This was akin to crystal shattering screeching that accompanied boy band sightings. Bucky had three sisters, he knew that sound. Intimately. He didn't think the current boy band was in Brooklyn. Three troll brothers from Norway were the current heartthrobs. Bucky wouldn't admit it under torture, but he sorta kinda liked a few of their songs. And the eldest brother was hot and scruffy.

Bucky leaned against the entrance to the old brick building, and watched a horde of screaming, middle age women swarm a swanky looking black van with some sort of emblem on the side. Bucky didn't have a damn clue what was going on, but a singularly hot man was navigating his way out of the driver's side of the van. Bucky absolutely did not cock his hips in a subconscious 'fuck me' maneuver when the man glanced at where he was standing. The blonde was built like a highly edible walking Dorito, all broad shoulders and narrow hips, a delicious ass that sat atop of a pair of long legs. 

A fiery blonde woman with a truly epic resting bitch face, popped out of the passenger seat. The hordes of middle aged women paused briefly in their swarm before pressing forward again. A serene looking brunette followed her, her eyes an odd shade of scarlet. Last out of the van was a black man, wearing aviator glasses and an easy going smile. 

“Damn it,” a lightly accented voice piped up beside Bucky. The man turned to the one person in the city he would call a friend. 

“What did you do Shuri?” Bucky couldn't help the smile that the young academic inspired. 

“Nothing,” Shuri sighed. “I think somebody called in a complaint about the microwave.” The young woman was a transplant from Wakanda, where some people said she was a princess. All Bucky knew was that she liked to fiddle about with necromancy and technology. With varied results. 

“Your microwave is a god damn menace.” Bucky agreed, his hands palm up, placating. “Inspired idea, but fucking annoying.” 

“You just don't understand genius,” Shuri sighed again. 

“Shuri, I tried to throw your microwave in the dumpster when I cat sat for you,” Bucky started. “It showed back up at my front door, with a note written in crayon. It's fucking evil.” 

“Shut up,” hissed Shuri as the group of four extracted themselves from the mob, and meandered their way up the short stairs. “Why they sent the Avengers is beyond me.”

Bucky hummed noncommittally, as he continued to enjoy the view in front of him. He had heard of the Avengers of course. No true born and bred New Yorker hadn't, Bucky just hadn't paid a lot of mind to the exploits of the paranormal exterminators since he had returned to the city. When you had gone through as much mind fuckery as Bucky had, you stopped paying a lot of mind to celebrity gossip. He needed to rectify that now. Well, not right now. Shuri was leaning against him, her slight form trembling. Bucky put his arm around her in solidarity. He knew that it was more than likely that his young friend was shaking in rage rather than fear, but comfort was comfort. 

The blonde Dorito shaped Avenger was striding towards them like this was a military operation of the greatest importance. Bucky found it unbearably hot. Then again, there was a good chance that he needed to get laid. Like yesterday. Shuri stood up straighter and Bucky understood why some of their neighbors thought that she was royalty. She looked absolutely regal as she stood her ground in the face of the approaching team. 

The blonde man stopped a respectful distance away from them, and nodded his head. “Ma'am,” those baby blue eyes glanced at Bucky. “Sir.” They flickered back to Shuri. “My name is Captain Steve Rogers.” 

“I know who you are Captain Rogers,” Shuri returned, her voice light. “I believe you are well acquainted with my brother, T'Challa.” 

“Of course,” Captain Rogers smiled broadly. Bucky stared as the man's stern face was transformed into something beyond handsome. A sharp elbow nudged the man in the ribs, and all appearance of mirth disappeared. “Unfortunately ma'am, we have been called in on a rather serious concern.” 

“If it's about the microwave, it's all in hand,” Shuri bald faced lied. “I've been working out the kinks.” 

Bucky turned and glared at his friend, the lying little minx. 

The blonde woman with the fox like face snorted, and murmured something under her breath to the rest of the team. Bucky watched them shift nervously behind their leader.

“That may be the case ma'am, but we will need to assess the situation,” Captain Rogers started. 

“Fine, but stop calling me ma'am. It's Shuri,” She sniffed regally. “Come on up to the apartment and you'll see that everything is fine.” She turned sharply on her heel and opened the door to the building. 

Bucky held the door open, and followed the team up the stairs. Unfortunately, the elevator had been broken for years, so the group had to sludge up five flights of stairs. Bucky couldn't say that he minded, at all. He stopped outside his door, his keys in hand. This was officially none of his business. The tumblers of the lock were falling into place, when Shuri's light, lilting voice stopped him from making a break for his own apartment and hell-spawn cat. 

“James?” Shuri was staring at him, as were the Avengers. 

Bucky grimaced at her for using his given name, and brushed his long, dark hair out of his eyes. “Yeah?” 

“You're coming, right?” Shuri was pleading with him with her dark eyes. He wasn't sure if she needed moral support or a co-conspirator to keep her secrets. 

He sighed, and pocketed his keys. Damn it all. Shuri was like a little sister to Bucky. Of course he was going to have her back. Even if she fused an evil as fuck soul to her microwave, and liked to lie about it. 

Shuri grinned at him, and opened her front door. Bucky was the last one in, and was not surprised when his friend's cat, Thor, came tearing around the corner and threw himself into Bucky's arms. The poor creature had been tormented by the microwave for months, and Bucky had taken to bringing him to his apartment when Shuri had to leave for days at a time. It was a good thing that Bucky's hell-spawn cat, Loki loved the fluffy yellow menace to distraction. Together they stirred up all sorts of trouble. 

Bucky shifted Thor's bulky body in his arms, trying to situate the Maine Coon cat comfortably. He grimaced at the startled looks he was getting. He knew that the low grumbles the cat was emitting were intimidating, but they were really just purrs. The animal was a huge softie. A huge softie that was done living with a possessed microwave. Bucky honestly would not be surprised if it turned out Thor had somehow did a weird anthropomorphic change in order to call the Avengers on Shuri. 

Bucky wished he had thought of it first. 

There was a hissing, spitting noise coming from the kitchen. It went beyond the noises made by technology. It was malevolent, the vague, incomprehensible sounds of torture from the very pits of hell. 

It sounded like what happened to Bucky when he was in the outer zones. He generally tried not to linger on memories of what had happened in that dark part of his life, but some memories were too strong. Certain sounds, particular scents, were enough to bring Bucky to his knees. Lost in memories of being reduced to nothing but raw nerve endings singing with too much power, and absolute destruction. 

He had been practically a baby when Hydra had stolen him. A young, fresh faced 19 year old, with too much spark and not enough common sense. Bucky flinched away from the thoughts spiraling out of control as he listened to that god damn microwave thrum. Thor was draped over his shoulder languidly, and Bucky focused on petting the purring beast's ears. Self soothing like he had been taught on his return to Brooklyn. 

If Bucky had sat Shuri down and really told her how he felt about the microwave, she would have tried to destroy it. She wasn't a cruel person, or malicious. It had been a matter of pride. And if Bucky had been honest with himself, it had been fear. Deep in his gut, he had understood that once the microwave was sentient, there was no going back. 

Thor's ears were laid back against his skull, as Bucky hung back. He could see into the kitchen. Could smell a lingering scent of rotting flesh, that Shuri never seemed to notice. The Avengers were on guard. Bucky could see it in the way they rallied away Captain Rogers, they flanked him like soldiers on a battlefield. 

“The microwave is part of my doctorate thesis,” Shuri was explaining to the team. “A fusion of necromancy and technology.” Bucky always tried to listen to Shuri when she started in on her research, but it always sounded like a hive of bees buzzing in his ears. What he knew, was that she was the first to create a stable bond between mechanical and soul. Shuri was a damn genius. 

As she spoke, Bucky watched Captain Roger's face. He was horrified. Bucky could not pin point how he knew, something in the way his brows furrowed maybe. 

The serene looking lady with red eyes asked the question that everybody was wondering. “Who or what soul did you fuse to the microwave?” 

“And why did you chose to meld it to a microwave?” The tall black man muttered under his breath. 

Shuri turned to face the group fully. “The microwave was the most convenient at the time,” she paced the kitchen. “And honestly I thought it was the safest option.” 

The microwave hissed balefully at the group. Thor yowled back, throaty and bold. The cat's whiskers were quivering with suppressed rage. Bucky ran a hand down the animal's back, murmuring soothing sounds at the beast. 

“Who's soul is it?” The blonde woman repeated the question. 

“A low level demon that calls himself Zola,” Shuri reassured the group. “He was already in the apartment when I moved in. He was willing.” 

Bucky wanted to puke, he knew that name. Hydra, it always came back to them. He could recall the feeling of being strapped to a table, the belts and chains cutting into his skin. The dirty feeling that skated up his soul, as he was commanded to use his spark, or be tortured. The human shaped demon who stood above him, and hissed commands. 

Captain Rogers blew out out a breath. “Sam, we are going to have to take the microwave with us.” 

The tall black man stepped forward, “Got it Cap.” 

“Natasha, I'm going to need you to clear out the people out front. Any means necessary.” 

The blonde foxy faced woman nodded, and left the kitchen. 

Shuri stood there, her mouth agape. “You can't take it. It's my thesis project.” 

“Ma'am, I hate to tell you this, but you put the soul of a high ranking Hydra demon into a cheap microwave,” Captain Rogers looked stern, like a disappointed father. Bucky winced for Shuri. “You are going to have to come up with something different for your thesis.” 

Shuri stood there, her eyes brimming with furious tears. Bucky felt horrible for her. He knew how hard she had worked on the project, how much heart and literal soul it had taken. He couldn't be sorry to see the damned thing go though.

“Wanda, can you contain it?” The captain asked. 

Bucky blinked, as a red haze filled the kitchen. It was moving with purpose. A putrid black smoke came rushing out of the microwave, and overwhelmed the gentle crimson haze. 

“No,” the serene woman murmured. In Bucky's opinion, it had been unnecessary. The black smoke had been answer enough. 

The three remaining Avengers were discussing ways to contain the microwave, while Shuri stood there in silence. Bucky figured he wouldn't be missed for a few moments. His heavy boots clunking, Bucky carried Thor to his apartment. He placed the mellow cat on his couch next to Loki, and stomped over to his own kitchen. He wasn't the best cook. He could make noodles and he was a hell of a good microwave user. And the one thing he had always held to be the truth of the universe; aluminum foil and microwaves did not mix. Period. He grabbed his box of Reynolds Heavy Duty foil and went back to Shuri's apartment. 

The three Avengers glanced up, as Bucky came stomping back into the kitchen. They didn't try to stop him, as he marched up to the bane of his existence and placed a balled up sheet of aluminum foil in the cheap yellowing microwave. He set the timer for five minutes, and as a group they all stood back and waited. It sparked, and made a god awful noise. And the microwave just kept on ticking. No explosion, no fire. Nothing. 

The truth of the universe had been a god damn lie. 

The microwave's timer went off, and the evil entity hissed at them mockingly. Bucky knew it was laughing at them. 

“It's indestructible,” Steve muttered in horror. Sam and Wanda looked on in horror as well. 

“No it's not,” Shuri insisted. “The foil thing is complete crap.” 

Bucky blinked at his friend. “It is a truth of the universe.” All of the Avengers nodded in agreement. 

“You are all idiots,” Shuri sighed. “Are you all sure that the microwave has to be destroyed?”

Steve nodded sagely. “Yes. Arnim Zola is pure evil. In all forms.” 

“Fine,” Shuri sighed forlornly. She rummaged through her kitchen cabinets searching for something. Finally she pulled out with an aerosol can of baking spray. 

“You can't use that,” Sam burst out. “You'll blow up the whole damn building.” 

“Not if we have Wanda contain the explosion,” Shuri instructed. 

Wanda finally lost her serene expression. “If I fail the entire building will explode.” 

Bucky cut in. “So we clear the building out just in case.” 

Steve looked at the group, “come on let's go door to door.” 

Sam hunched his shoulders, and glanced at his team, as well as the two trouble makers they had gotten called to assist. “Should somebody stay with this evil fucking thing?” 

Bucky had his finger against his nose in a nanosecond. “Not me.” He glanced around and everybody was doing the same, except for Shuri. Which might have been a cultural difference. Or not.“And Shuri can't be left alone with the thing.” 

Shuri squawked indignantly. “What do you mean by that James?” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his friend. 

“Yeah ok,” Shuri agreed. 

“So who's going to stay?” Sam asked again. “Or do we have to draw straws. Again.” 

“Damn it,” Steve grumbled. “I'll do it.”

Bucky glanced back at the man, as they all filed out the door. Steve was watching the microwave warily, looking two seconds away from punching the thing in the interface. 

They split up. When telling the residents of the building to evacuate, there had been some grumbling. Until they mentioned the damn microwave. And then the people had scrammed. The damn thing had been tormenting the entire building for months and they were all eager for it to be gone. Even if that meant blowing up the damn building. With that in mind, Bucky ran back up to his apartment for the cats. He had only one pet crate, so he stuck both Loki and Thor in it, before putting them safely in the Avenger's fancy looking van. 

They all met back up in Shuri's apartment. Steve was arguing with the young genius. 

“I am not leaving,” Shuri was shouting. “I created the damn thing, and I'll see it finished.” 

“Ma'am, I refuse to start a war with Wakanda because I let the kings's sister be irresponsible,” Steve was trying to remain calm. 

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. There was one rumor confirmed. Sam and Wanda were silently watching the fight, obviously refusing to get involved. “You are not to blame Shuri,” Bucky interjected. “Zola manipulated you. It's what he does. You are a genius, but you are not cruel. This was all him.” 

Natasha snaked by him, her eyes narrow as she looked at the group. “If we are going to do this, now is the time.” 

Sam glanced at Steve, and then hefted a kicking Shuri into his arms, carrying the princess from the apartment. Bucky winced in sympathy. Sam was going to end up with two black eyes and a bruised groin for that maneuver. Natasha nodded at Steve and Wanda, and was out the door. Bucky was two steps behind her, only pausing long enough to glance back at the two grim faced Avengers. Wanda looked nervous and determined. Steve looked like a god damn martyr. 

“See you both in a few minutes,” Bucky threw out, meeting Steve's eyes. 

“See you James,” Steve answered. 

“Call me Bucky,” he grinned cockily. 

It was an unbearably tense five minutes. He was leaning against the van, staring at his apartment building. Natasha Romanov was doing the same next to him. 

“You are the one they called the Winter Soldier,” she murmured. “There were stories about a spark that Hydra had stolen.” 

Bucky flinched away from the woman, still finding it painful to talk about his forced time with Hydra. He knew in his head that the atrocities he had been made to commit were not his fault. Yet his heart spoke differently. “My spark is burnt out,” Bucky lied. “I am just a nightmare vendor now.” 

“Sure kid,” Natasha said almost kindly. “You know they are going to offer you a job in the Avengers right?” 

“Why in the hell would they want me?” Bucky wanted to bolt, to hide. 

Natasha just shrugged at him. “You'd be a good fit, and Steve likes you.” 

Shuri rounded the van, looking spit fire mad. Sam was following her, a slight hitch to his step and his face swelling. They were all silent as they watched the building and did a mental count down.  
Bucky refused to admit that it was slightly anticlimactic to watch Steve and Wanda walk out of the building. The evil shell of the microwave under Steve's bulging arm. Wanda's sleek hair was slightly frazzled and Steve looked a lot singed, but they were a sight for sore eyes. The microwave was chucked into the back of the van, to the displeasure of the cats in the carrier. Thor and Loki's screeching was ear splitting. 

Natasha wandered off to supervise the clean up, and Steve took her place next to Bucky. They were watching the residents of the building. They were your typical New Yorkers. The excitement was over, and they just wandered back into the building. Nothing kept a New Yorker down for long. 

Bucky leaned a bit closer to Steve, shivering when their arms brushed. The blonde made the slight touch more deliberate. He wrapped his long fingers around Bucky's wrist. 

“So you prefer to be called Bucky,” Steve asked quietly. 

“I do. Only my parents and Shuri call me James,” he answered just as quietly. 

Steve nodded slowly, his fingers doodling small swirls as he started aggressively holding Bucky's hand. “This might sound weird, but I've been dreaming about you since I was a kid.” 

Bucky sucked in a breath. He had heard about people who dreamt of soul bonds. It wasn't for everybody. And often ended in tears for those involved. A lot of the time they didn't find each other, and people's souls just dried up. Became husks of who they were meant to be. Bucky had become a nightmare vendor because he couldn't remember his dreams anymore. He knew he dreamed, he just couldn't grasp them, couldn't bring them to the surface. His nightmares were vivid however.

Bucky leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of Steve Roger's mouth. “That doesn't sound weird to me at all,” he mumbled as he pulled away. “But I am not good bet. You'd be better off with somebody else.” 

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Bucky was already pulling away. “I need to go and check on Shuri.” 

As Bucky walked away, he could hear Sam chiding Steve. “Too fast man. You need to learn to walk before sprinting for the finish line.”

“Shut up Sam,” Steve mumbled wearily. 

That put a hiccup in Bucky's step. He didn't like hearing Steve sound like that. This was for the best though. If it could have been fun fooling around, it would have been one thing. A soul bond was something different. His soul was not fit for that kind of thing. Hydra had seen to that. 

Shuri had her arms wrapped around her torso, obviously trying to comfort herself. Bucky slung his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. The young woman sighed, and cuddled into his chest. They both stood there, staring at the intact building. It might have been better if the damn thing had blown up, along with the microwave. At least then there would have been a physical symbol of how much both of their lives had just imploded. 

“You are a genius,” Bucky started abruptly. “You will find something for your thesis. Zola... he's evil.” 

Shuri mumbled something into his shirt. 

“I didn't catch that princess,” Bucky teased lightly. 

Shuri lifted her head and glared at him. “Don't call me that,” she started. “My thesis will work itself out. I am more mad that I'll never hear the end of this from T'Challa.” 

“And that's your brother, the king of Wakanda.” Bucky stated in numb disbelief. 

Shuri pulled away and punched Bucky in the meat of his shoulder. “He's probably already heard about this fucking cluster fuck, and is on his way to collect me.” 

“So I should probably prepare a bed and bowl for Thor?” Bucky grinned happily. “I love that cat. I am going to steal him.”

“No you aren't,” Shuri grumbled. “Though at this point, he likes you better than me.” 

“It's Loki he adores,” Bucky hip bumped her. 

“True,” Shuri tweaked his hair and grabbed his arm. “Come on let's go get them out of jail and find some food.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed thoughtlessly, as he watched Steve and Sam clearing out the curious bystanders, who were milling about nosily. Steve kept glancing at him, his eyes seeking something. 

“Don't think you are going to get out talking about that, either,” Shuri interjected. 

“Talking about what?” Bucky asked, glancing away from Steve.“I have no idea what the hell you are even talking about.” 

“Of course not,” Shuri smiled at him sweetly. “But you will.” 

Bucky winced, he was officially screwed. And not in a good way. He reached inside the black van, and pulled out the cat crate. Loki and Thor were curled up together, calm as two crazy cats could be. Shuri stopped to talk to the Avengers, as Bucky went inside their building. He didn't glance back at Steve Rogers. It had been hard enough walking away once, there was no reason to torment himself. 

Later that night found Shuri and Bucky in his apartment. A feast of Thai food spread out on the floor, empty bottles of a local brew laying on their sides, as the two friends lay sprawled out. The cats were asleep on the couch, baseball, unwatched, was playing on the old tv. Bucky grunted when Shuri poked him in the thigh with her bony ass foot. 

“So,” Shuri began. “I never would have guessed that Steve Rogers was your type.” 

“Oh my goddess,” Bucky moaned pathetically. “Shut up.” 

“I mean, you normally go for the scruffy, troll types,” Shuri continued unperturbed. “Steve is very apple pie.”

Bucky hummed noncommittally. 

“Though, you always have been an ass man, and that man you could bounce a quarter off of his luscious backside.” 

“For fuck's sake, how do you know my taste?” Bucky hissed as he reached for another bottle of beer. 

“Oh sweetie, you are not subtle,” the woman laughed. “I thought you were going to climb him like a tree. And then you fled like a cat in a firecracker factory.” 

“I did not,” Bucky protested loudly. “I was an adult, that walked away from an unideal situation.” 

“You are such a liar James Barnes.” Shuri hissed, her face suddenly fierce, no longer teasing. “You've never been a coward, do not start being one now.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but shut it at the look on his best friend's face. 

“I have never asked you about what happened, and I won't,” Shuri was looking cold and regal. “I trust that you will tell me, if you need me to know. It's your history and I won't betray that trust, but I refuse to sit by and watch you fuck up your future.” 

“I was captured by Hydra,” Bucky blurted out abruptly, not realizing how his silence had hurt his friend. “It was bad, really bad.” He trailed off, not sure how to talk about it. Even now, being back in the world years later. “The things they made me do, they were horrific.” 

“James, you really do not have to tell me,” Shuri started, her fierceness fading as quickly as it had appeared. She appeared too young. 

“No, I need you to understand, I trust you,” Bucky muttered, beyond tired. “Hydra is so hard to explain, it's like this twisting, writhing mass below the surface of society. Humans, demons, magic users, mundanes. They are all apart of it.”

“What do they want?” Shuri asked quietly. 

“Order through chaos is probably the best way to explain it,” Bucky sighed. “They start wars, they kill important people, they are behind all the dark conspiracy theories people whisper about.” 

“And they stole you,” Shuri stated. “

“They did,” Bucky took a swallow of his beer. “Zola was the mastermind behind my conversion therapy. He figured out a way to use my spark against me.” 

“Bloody fuck,” Shuri whispered. “How?”

“I have no idea,” Bucky whispered back. “I just know it hurt, and I would do anything to make it stop. It wasn't just physical. It was in the very marrow of my being. I can't explain it.” 

“You don't have to,” Shuri looked fierce again. “You found your way back to us.” 

“I did,” Bucky agreed. “I can't explain it. It's like I woke up one day.” He grimaced again. “I escaped my captors.” He refused to tell his friend about the blood he had spilt that day. The massacre of Hydra agents, strike units and scientist. He felt zero remorse for it. “And I made my way home to New York.” 

Shuri glanced at him, her young face so damn wise. Too wise for her years. “Did you dream when you were with Hydra?” She asked idly. 

Bucky stared at her thoughtfully. “If I did I don't remember specifics.” 

“And you don't dream now,” She stated firmly, less a question and more a statement. 

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I do dream. I just can't remember them. There is a distinction I think.” 

“Why are you letting Hydra control you even now?” Shuri was ruthless with her questions. “You can't tell me that you turning down Steve Rogers wasn't related to your imprisonment.” 

Bucky picked up Loki from the couch, draping the long haired black cat across his shoulder, petting the purring beast firmly. “Shuri, I...” He trailed off. “What Hydra did was a violation. And I don't want that to taint Steve.” 

“James, it didn't taint you,” Shuri looked close to tears. “I know you don't believe me, but you survived and thrived. Do not let them win.” 

Bucky nodded woodenly, drinking jerkily from his bottle. Loki flicked his long fluffy tail, tickling the man until he went back to running his hand firmly down the cat's back. He knew in his head that Shuri was right. It was just hard to believe in the middle of the night, after he woke shaking and soaking wet with cold sweat from night terrors he couldn't remember. His therapist diagnosed him with PTSD, encouraged him to get Loki as an emotional support animal and had given him tricks and tips to combat it. 

Somedays it helped. Other days found him unable to leave his apartment. Hiding in a corner, with the dead certainty that Hydra was coming for him. Those days came less each passing month, but they still came. 

A hand on his shoulder shook him out of his reverie. “Just think about it okay, James?” Shuri murmured. “You deserve to be happy.” 

James nodded again. It was granted that he wouldn't be able to do anything but think about it. Think about Steve. 

It started a week later. 

Shuri had indeed been right. Her brother, his royal highness had come to take her home to Wakanda. Bucky had leaned against the wall, and listened to T'Challa lecture his sister on the foolishness of her actions. And had enjoyed Shuri's explosion of temper in return. It was nice to see it aimed at somebody else for a change. He had taken Thor, and the Maine coon had made himself at home, taking over Loki's bed and his food bowl, much to the black cat's displeasure. Shuri had laughed, and said that she would be back in a month's time. T'Challa looking amused by his sister's antics had shaken Bucky's hand and smiled serenely. 

It started with a short dark haired man, with elaborately manicured facial hair. He was the sort of man who looked like he drank espresso directly from the pot, and never slept. He had a veneer of wealth and privilege about him. Bucky had no idea why somebody like him would visit a nightmare vendor. He was learning not make generalizations like that though. One never knew what one was going through. 

Walking in another's shoes and all that jazz. 

“So you are the Bucky Bear that Cap is mooning over,” the man stated baldly when Bucky finally turned to assist him. 

“Excuse me?” Bucky stared hard at the man, unable to place him.

“Rogers has been sad droopy face since last week, and I wanted to see who turned down the paragon of perfection.” The man both seemed sincere and sarcastic, if such a thing was possible. It was a weird juxtaposition. 

“Do I know you?” Bucky asked caustically, already tired of this conversation. 

“Well, kid you are peddling your wares in the shadow of my building.” 

Bucky stared at him blankly, “Mister, either speak clearly, or clear out.” 

“My name is Tony Stark,” the man looked at Bucky expectantly. “Ring any bells yet.”

“Yeah you built that ugly ass building,” Bucky stated. “It's a god damn travesty on the skyline of New York.” 

“You are Rogers are made for each other,” Tony Stark muttered darkly. “Listen asshole, Steve has been a mopey asshole. Fix it.” 

Bucky turned away, and started packing up his trolley. “Shove off mister Stark. I am not one of your toadies.” 

“Jeez, try to do something nice,” The man muttered as he walked off. 

It didn't stop there. Bucky began to meet the oddest damn group of people. One at a damn time. In the oddest places. 

The kid with the odd affinity for spiders on the roof of his building, when Bucky was city scape gazing. 

The man at the bar, with the katanas, who had grabbed Bucky's ass and then backed off like his hands were on fire. The man's magic had been twisted at some point and used against him. Bucky couldn't help but wonder if Hydra had gotten their grubby paws on him too. 

Then there was the mild mannered doctor who had been perusing Bucky's wares. Bucky had been highly entertained with the conversation they had been engaged in. Then Tony Stark had shown up, dragging the man away. Though, not before giving Bucky a foul look. The doctor had waved resignedly at Bucky, before turning and yelling Stark. He had looked a little green around the edges. 

There had been the bald dude with an eyepatch mumbling about conspiracy theories lingering outside his building. Loki hadn't seemed to like him at all when taken on his walk around the block, so Bucky kept his distance. Bucky trusted his cat's instincts, he had never led him astray. 

It had been two long weeks of feeling a bit like a stalked mouse, that Bucky came home to Steve sitting on his apartment stoop. Bucky stalked right up to him, his boots hitting the toes of Steve's shoes. 

“You need to call off your friends,” Bucky snapped. 

“I didn't know what they were doing,” Steve stood, his shoulders bowed. “I told them to leave you alone.”

Bucky backed up a step. “Why were they doing it?” 

Steve shrugged his ridiculously broad shoulders. “Natasha and Sam knew about the dreams. Natasha can keep a secret. Sam... Not so much.” 

Bucky nodded shortly. “I'm not going to be bullied into a relationship Steve.” 

The man turned pale, “I swear I didn't know Bucky.” 

Bucky stared at the blonde, noting the purpling bags under those baby blue eyes, and the haggard look lingering on his face. He sat down on the stoop, and tugged the blonde down too. They sat shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip in silence. It was comfortable. Damn this man, and damn Shuri for making him think about these things. Bucky was staring at Steve's large, capable hand. It was clenching around the fabric of his jeans. He found that he wanted to hold it, like before. Wanted to tangle his fingers with Steve's and just hang on. So he did.

Bucky refused to look at Steve, as he sat there. His fingers playing with those long, slender digits of the other man's hand. “Listen pal, I've been thinking about things. I may have been hasty before. I'm willing to try dating, but you got to slow down on the soul bond thing.” 

“I can do that,” Steve breathed. “I moved way too fast, I realize that now.” 

Bucky leaned over and kissed the corner of the man's plush lips, “don't beat yourself up.” 

Steve leaned more fully into Bucky, as the dark haired man continued to talk softly. “Listen, I'm a mess. I don't sleep well, I dream even less. I wake up with night terrors. And I am emotionally dependent on two hell spawn cats. My best friend fuses demons and microwaves.” 

“Natasha told me a little bit about the Winter Soldier,” Steve stated softly. “You were just a kid. Hydra should fucking burn.” 

“I burnt down what I could, before I left,” Bucky states bluntly. “You should know that about me.” 

Steve sat back and looked steadily at Bucky. “I would burn down the rest of it, for you. You should probably know that too.” 

Bucky smiled a bit feral. “Well pal, I guess it's til the end of the line for us then.” 

Steve leaned forward and kissed the grin right off Bucky's lips. 

It was pretty much perfect. Steve's plush mouth was firm against his. Teeth pulled at his bottom lip, before the bites were soothed with a lick. Clever hands were tangled in his long hair, as the embrace became more passionate. Bucky opened up his mouth, and nipped at Steve's tongue playfully. Hips aligned, and Bucky was was pushing up into the firm pressure. 

“Get a room boys,” a spry, elderly man walked up the steps. Bucky broke the embrace to smile at his neighbor. Steve was panting softly into his neck, his face hot with embarrassment. 

Maybe a soul bond wouldn't be such a horrible thing after all.


End file.
